


Light of the Moon

by cellard00rs



Series: CSAC series [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Confusion, Drabble, Fluff, Multi, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set within the events of Chapter 24, Preston wakes up first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light of the Moon

Preston’s eyelids feel heavy even as they rise to wakening.

It’s soft and dark around him, a gentle deep blue and he doesn’t know where he is but he’s so wonderfully warm. He blinks sleepily and realizes that there are big, strong arms around him, cuddling him close. He feels so content, so safe. He can’t remember feeling this way in…well, ever.

He draws in a silent breath through his nose and shifts slightly, tries to see who is behind him. The more he wakes, the more he feels the contentment slip away. Someone’s behind him, he’s in bed with someone and he doesn’t even know who it is and he can’t remember…

He catches sight of wild, long hair and a strong jawed face. Oh shit. Oh god, it’s-it’s a _man_. He feels himself shrink, can almost hear a bell ringing in the distance somewhere…if his father knew…

Preston carefully sits up a little more, gets a better view over his shoulder and it’s-it’s Ford? No…not Ford…

“Stanley?” he asks the darkness, asks the sleeping form next to him.

He gets no answer and he feels his throat constrict, mind on full blown panic mode. He needs to get up! He needs to leave! He needs to start pretending this never happened!

The arms around him tighten and Stan’s face takes on a troubled expression, even in sleep. And at that expression, Preston finds himself doing the exact opposite of what he knows he should do.

 _What are you doing_?! his thoughts bellow at him even as he finds himself lowering his body back down to the mattress, one hand digging into his hair, cheeks heating - because fuck, fuck - what _is_ he doing? _What is he doing_?

What the hell happened last night?

His mouth is dry and he can’t think clearly and his body _aches_ , his face sore - no doubt from the pummeling he took at this barbarian’s hands. A barbarian who took him back to his lair, took him to his bed, _claimed_ him…

A shaft of heat lances through Preston’s body and he damn near shivers at it, excitement tingling below his belt. Christ, where did _that_ come from? Even if-if he were to lov…lust… _like_ one of the twins, it would most certainly be _Stanford_ \- not _Stanley_.

Which he would not, of course, because he doesn’t like men! Not like _that_ , because Northwests are not _gay_ and-!

Anyway, Stanley is an unintelligible brute, who is no better than-

Stan’s body comes closer, lips ghosting along one of Preston’s shoulder blades. Preston stifles a groan and resolutely ignores any and all stirrings in his lower regions. He is not getting an erection, he is _not_ getting an erection, _he is not_ -!

Sleep!

That’s what he needs!

More sleep!

Clearly this is all some sort of insane dream he’s having!

He slams his eyes shut, tries to force himself to go back to sleep when a devious thought whispers: _Well, if it’s just a dream…_

Preston slowly, ever so slowly, turns. He turns his whole body until he finds himself facing Stanley. Stanley isn’t snoring, but his breaths are heavy and there’s the tiniest trail of drool to one side. It’s highlight by a sliver of light coming from somewhere (the light of the moon?) and Preston finds himself thoughtlessly brushing it away with his thumb.

Stan grunts, grumbles, arms around Preston growing more insistent and soon Preston is crushed deep into the cradle of Stan’s embrace. He’s held close, cuddled like a favored stuffed animal and Preston? Preston feels the contentment return, his lips sort of wiggling about his face as they fight off a smile.

He shouldn’t smile - this isn’t something to smile about. _This is wrong_ , a voice - eerily like his father hisses - _This is sick. Northwests do not allow themselves to be ‘snuggled’. Preston Northwest, you stop this this instant! You get out of this bed, you-_

Preston cuts the voice short, buries himself deeper, presses his face deep into Stan’s collarbone, his throat, and he closes his eyes. No. No one has to know. Not even himself. He’ll just go back to sleep, go back to his dreams. This is fine. It’s harmless. It’s nothing.

Stan’s scent fills his lungs - it’s…good. Hot and musky - it makes him think of forests and fire. Preston feels himself lulled back to sleep by it and despite his earlier attempts, a smile does take his face - this one all the more rare, because it’s a smile of true peace.


End file.
